


A Fresh Coat Of Paint

by NJB909



Category: The Marlows - Antonia Forest
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-26
Updated: 2015-08-26
Packaged: 2018-04-17 10:10:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4662723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NJB909/pseuds/NJB909
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Esther comes to stay at Trennels for the half term weekend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Fresh Coat Of Paint

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by [Lilliburlero](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lilliburlero/pseuds/Lilliburlero) in the [Antonia_Forest_Fanworks_2015](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/Antonia_Forest_Fanworks_2015) collection. 



> **Prompt:**
> 
>  
> 
> I'd love any f/f romance for Rowan, whether with a canonical character or an OC. Post-canon, Nicola _does_ make up with Esther and invites her to Trennels for a holiday, and Rowan is blown away by Esther's beauty? Or anything femslashy you like, but no het or explicit underage sex (under 16), please.

‘Here we are, home sweet home.’ Nicola pushed the front door open and gestured for Esther to step inside. ‘Mum! We’re here!’ she yelled into the cavernous hallway, her clear voice bouncing off the walls. Esther, startled, hung back and waited for her far more confident friend to take the lead. Nicola got the hint and walked into the house with Esther trailing behind, clutching at Daks’s lead as if it were a lifebelt.

‘Girls!’ Mrs Marlow appeared in the hall, accepted a self-conscious kiss from her daughter and shook Esther’s trembling hand. ‘Do _try_ not to shout so, Nicky darling. You’re terribly late, was the train delayed? It’s almost dinner time.’

‘Then I call it very well-timed,’ Nicola replied with a grin. ‘Mum, I’ll show Esther upstairs for a quick scrub and then we’ll be down, pressed and clean, ready to tuck in.’

‘Yes, well, it’s only cottage pie again,’ Mrs Marlow warned, taking Daks’s lead from Esther, who didn’t dare protest, and setting him free to wander into the kitchen in search of scraps. ‘I couldn’t put Mrs Bertie to a lot of trouble without knowing when you were likely to be here.’ 

\---

‘And you needn’t worry,’ Nicola said to Esther as they walked back downstairs. ‘As I said on the train, there’s only mum and Rowan around this weekend, besides us. Which is why you’re here to keep me company, of course,’ she added with a grin. ‘So there’s nothing to be frightened of.’

As they walked into the dining room, Esther thought privately that there might be actually, from what she’d heard of the great Rowan Marlow.

Sitting down at the table, Esther took the opportunity to peep furtively around the dining room, her eyes sliding towards the small gathering of photographs on the sideboard, including framed portraits of various tiny, fair-haired Marlows. She glanced at Nicola, who caught her eye and smiled, reaching for the green beans and offering them to her.

‘Oh really, not cottage pie again,’ Rowan crashed in, dressed in what looked like ‘farming clothes’, short hair pulled into a rough ponytail and cheeks flushed from the wind. She surveyed the table, then spotted Esther and stopped short.

‘Hi, Ro. This is Esther, owner of Daks,’ Nicola explained quickly. ‘Esther, this is my sister Rowan.’

‘How do you do,’ Esther murmured, half-standing. Rowan eyed her for a moment, and Esther felt her cheeks burning as she wondered if she’d made a terrible fool of herself. Then Nicola’s sister smiled, walking around the table with her hand outstretched.

‘Pleased to meet you, Esther-owner-of-Daks.’

Esther got a blurred impression of strong handshake, very blue eyes and the smell of outdoors. She smiled back shyly, and then Rowan was sitting down, tucking in while talking farm business with her mother in-between mouthfuls.

\---

It was due to a combination of Rowan’s hints, Nicola’s half-hearted offering and Mrs Marlow’s firm suggestion that Esther found herself dressed in Marlow cast-offs, including a sweater that was more darn than wool and two enormous wellies of different sizes, and walking with Nicola down to a barn, where Rowan had some painting for them to do. Poor Daks was left behind with Mrs Bertie, where he couldn’t be painted or worse, get in the way.

‘It’s to waterproof the wood,’ Rowan explained, gesturing to the wall she wanted them to finish. ‘It does help keep the hay dry, and I’ve one thousand things to do before yesterday, so thank you very much, I must say.’

‘No problem,’ Nicola said cheerily, wielding a paintbrush that was already dripping the thick, red paint. ‘I say, this is a very cheery colour.’

Rowan, eyeing her, took two steps backwards. ‘Yes, well, not my choice actually. More that we had some left over from years ago. But it should go on alright. Now then, do you think you two can get this side painted in a sensible sort of way while I go and observe some cows?’

They agreed that they could, and Rowan departed. For a while they painted in companionable silence, until every part they could reach was done.

‘Well,’ Nicola commented, stepping back. ‘I think there’s nothing for it but to find a ladder, there must be one around her somewhere. You’d think Rowan would have thought of that, wouldn’t you?’

Esther put down her brush, wiped her hands on the jeans she was wearing and promptly apologised, blushing. Nicola laughed.

‘Oh don’t worry, those are the ones with the broken zip, aren’t they? I think they were Ann’s-then-Gin's. No one would dream of wearing them except to paint, so you might as well improve them with a red streak or two.’ She wiped her own hands on the anorak she was wearing. ‘Come on, let’s find something to stand on.’

‘Rowan’s nice,’ Esther ventured as they poked around in the barn in search of a ladder.

‘Mmm, apart from being such a slave driver, you mean?’ Nicola replied with a grin.

‘Y-yes, I mean no, of course not…’

‘She’s alright really,’ Nicola said quickly, clearly sensing Esther’s approaching flap. ‘I mean, the best of all of them really, except Giles.’ She pulled at a huge piece of metal that had possibly once been a car bumper, found it didn’t shift and left it there. ‘I don’t mind helping her out really. It’s a bit mouldy for you though, isn’t it? Barely here five minutes and put straight to work.’

‘Oh, I don’t mind,’ said Esther, who really didn’t. ‘It’s something different. But what about Lawrie?’

‘What about her?’ Nicola kicked at a pile of boxes, which wobbled precariously, then peered between them. ‘Blast! I think the ladder’s behind these. Help me get them all stacked over there, will you?’

Obediently Esther pushed a box out of the way, and lifted another. ‘Only… you said you like Rowan the best, after Giles…’

‘Oh, well,’ Nicola hefted a heavy box against her chest, arms straining. ‘Don’t tell Lawrie, whatever you do.’

‘O-oh, I won’t…’

Nicola grinned. ‘Idiot. Lawrie’s different. I just meant Rowan’s a good sort, that’s all. For someone who’s your sister, I mean.’ She looked at Esther consideringly. ‘You probably find her awfully loud and bossy, though. Anyway, we’re through! Help me carry this great thing.’

\---

‘Gosh, you two have been busy,’ Rowan commented, arriving at the base of the ladder, which Nicola was holding while Esther took a turn at painting. ‘Where on earth did you get this rusty old thing? It doesn’t look too steady.’

‘That’s why I’m holding it,’ Nicola explained. ‘We still have to stretch though, which is why we’re taking turns. It makes your arms ache.’

‘Does it? Well, you’ve both been very brave.’ Rowan stepped back to study the overall effect, watching as Esther dipped her brush in the pot and stretched to get the corner. ‘I say Esther, that looks terribly unsafe. That’ll do, I’ll get one of the men to do the last little bit.’

‘I can manage, really…’ Esther started to say, and then several things happened at once. She turned a little to look at Rowan, lost her balance slightly and fell down a step. Nicola, exclaiming, let go of the ladder to grab Esther’s arm, and one or the other of them upset the paint tin which overbalanced, tipping out its contents and rolling off onto the floor. 

The ladder wobbled but stayed upright, and Esther regained her balance. Then she looked at Nicola, still holding the ladder and drenched from head to foot in red paint. ‘Oh.’

‘I say,’ Rowan said casually, ‘That’s waterproof paint, Nick. If you ever want to be blonde again I’d run and get in a bath of white spirit. _Now_.’

‘Oh gosh, I’m so sorry Nicola,’ Esther babbled, wobbling down the ladder. Rowan came over and took her rather shaky hand, helping her down to the ground. They gazed at Nicola, who looked drippingly back at them, then down at herself.

‘I expect you’re right,’ she said wearily. ‘But ma’s not going to let me in the house like this.’

‘Go and hose yourself off by the back door first,’ Rowan suggested. ‘Ask Mrs Bertie to bring you a towel and leave your clothes outside.’

Nicola pushed back her wet, newly red hair, grimacing as it dripped in her face. ‘I… alright.’ She squelched off, leaving Esther staring after her.

‘Oh gosh, do you think she’s frightfully angry?’ Esther blurted, her hands wringing themselves of their own accord. 

Rowan offered her a wry smile. ‘When does Nick ever get angry over something like this? No, she’ll be fine.’ She looked Esther over. ‘You, meanwhile, seem to have escaped more or less entirely. How did you manage that?’

Esther shook her head, speechless with disaster. She turned away, picking up brushes and paint lids and putting them down again until Rowan stopped her. ‘Come on, you’ve put in your shift. Help me put this stuff away and we’ll go and have a cup of tea while Nick scrubs herself back to a light pink, how does that sound?’

Esther nodded, still miserable. In silence they carried the pots and brushes into the barn.

‘At the back, out of the way, I think,’ Rowan directed, and Esther obliged. She watched awkwardly as Rowan poured a little white spirit into a handy tub and began rinsing the brushes. ‘Could you possible clean the other one?’ Rowan asked, glancing up at her, and Esther moved quickly, grabbing the brush and kneeling down to wash it.

She concentrated hard on the task in hand, for a lump was growing in her throat as she realised that Rowan must think her an idiot for dropping a whole pot of paint on her sister. And what was Nicola going to say? Esther swallowed hard, lifting her hand to brush away a traitorous tear, realising too late that her hands were still sticky with red paint. She froze, furious with herself for making such a stupid mistake.

‘Here,’ Rowan said quietly, extending a clean cloth under Esther’s nose.

‘T-thanks,’ Esther took it, dropping the paintbrush to wipe her face. She took a moment to gather herself, then offered the cloth back to Rowan without meeting her eyes.

Rowan chuckled. ‘You’ve still got... oh look, lift your head up and keep still, will you?’ Without ceremony she shifted closer, reaching out to hold Esther’s chin with her left hand while the other carefully wiped the paint off. 

Esther stiffened, holding her head perfectly still. Her skin burned under Rowan’s touch, and with nowhere else to focus, she found herself studying Rowan’s face from close quarters. Rowan wasn’t looking at her, intent on removing the paint from under Esther’s eye.

‘Close your eyes,’ Rowan murmured, and Esther did so. 

The rough cloth scraped against her skin, although she could tell Rowan was being as gentle as possible. Rowan’s fingers were warm on her chin, thumb and forefinger holding her still. She could heard Rowan breathing evenly, concentrating on the task. And that same smell of the outdoors, like fresh air, clean earth and hay.

‘Open,’ Rowan said quietly, and Esther did so to find Rowan staring at her from inches away. ‘You’ll do,’ Rowan said in that same quiet voice, and Esther found herself blushing.

‘Thank you,’ Esther whispered, staring into Rowan’s eyes. Blue, like Nicola’s. They did look alike. And yet... not.

Rowan’s hand was still on her cheek. Esther felt gentle fingers stroking once, twice, and then it was gone and back in Rowan’s lap.

‘Um.’ Rowan got hurriedly to her feet, brushing herself down. ‘Shall we... get that tea?’

‘Alright.’ Esther quickly tidied the paintbrushes to one side and got up too, wiping her hands on her jeans. She followed Rowan out of the barn on shaky legs, and in silence they walked back to the house.

\---

In the kitchen Rowan begged slices of fruit cake from Mrs Bertie, who went off to do some mending and left them drinking their tea in silence. Which was how Nicola found them some time later when she arrived, clean and damp-haired, to say that actually it hadn’t been too hard to get off, but could they still see a hint of pink in her eyebrows?


End file.
